


A Dish Best Served Cold

by alynwa



Series: Once Upon a Time [1]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-02-03 18:07:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12753453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alynwa/pseuds/alynwa





	A Dish Best Served Cold

The day was cold and crisp, with the clouds overhead threatening a heavy snowfall. For one of the two figures on the otherwise empty clifftop, the chill of winter no longer held any discomfort. It never would again.

April holstered her Walther and headed back down the path, the adrenaline that had pumped through her veins while she chased down the turncoat Derek Frank keeping her warm. She took a deep calming breath to regulate her breathing and slowly released it as she watch it condense and disappear into the air. She slowed her gait and schooled her face into a neutral expression.

Calmly, she reentered the cabin where she had discovered her partner bound, gagged and screaming in agony because the aforementioned Frank had been entertaining himself by using a cattle prod on the Brit. She had become so enraged, she had shot through the window. Frank has moved at the last second and been grazed in his left arm.

He ran out the door and through the woods while April circled the cabin to get inside. She undid the knots binding his hands and feet and removed the gag. When he opened his eyes and saw her, his moans turned into sobs of relief and pain. "You're going to be okay, Darling," she said as she took in the damage that had been done to him. Quickly assembling her communicator, she barked, "Open Channel E, emergency! Agent down! Lock on my signal and send a rescue team ASAP!" She activated her homing signal and placed it in Mark's shirt pocket. "I'll be back as soon as I can, Darling, don't you worry about a thing." The only other piece of furniture in the place was another chair, so she couldn't lie him down except on the floor, which was filthy and wet from melted snow.

She had tracked Frank easily through the snow as his blood trail was visible. He didn't seem to be moving very fast, a fact she ascertained by observing that his footprints were fairly neat while hers were sloppy with snow flying as she pounded after him. She stopped at the tree line and saw her quarry moving resolutely uphill at a steady, unhurried pace. _He thinks he's safe because he's assumed I'd stay with Mark!_ She drew her weapon, screwed on its silencer, leaned against a tree, widened her stance and aimed for the man's left leg. She squeezed off a shot and smiled when a yelp of pain reached her ears and the man dropped to his knees.

Frank turned his head and looked for her, but she had moved back into the trees out of his line of sight. Seeing no one, he got up and began limping up the hill again.

April watched him remembering what her uncle used to tell her when recounting his hunting stories. _Don't run up on a wounded animal. If you do, you could spook it into making a mad dash and then you'll have to track it. Just let it wear itself out._ She saw that he had reached the top of the hill and she fired again, this time hitting him in his right calf. This time when he fell, he didn't move.

She walked out of the woods and began to go towards him. He noticed her when she was about twenty-five feet from him. He managed to drag himself up onto the top of the hill. She followed and saw the other side was a high cliff.

Frank turned around and sneered, "Well, you've had your fun. You've caught me. The Old Man will put me in Tartarus for sure for betraying UNCLE, but you know what? It was worth it! Waverly screwed me over when he assigned that Commie to be Solo's new partner! I was certain he'd send them after me. Imagine my surprise to see Slate! I didn't plan on that, but he proved to be a good substitute for that Russkie anyway. Argh!"

April looked on impassively as the man writhed in pain from the bullet she had put in his ankle. "You're not going to Tartarus, Derek Frank, you're going to hell. Now." She put her next bullet between his eyes.

The day was cold and crisp, with the clouds overhead threatening a heavy snowfall. For one of the two figures on the otherwise empty clifftop, the chill of winter no longer held any discomfort. It never would again. And she was glad for it.


End file.
